


Loyalties Lie

by wingedbears



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Enemies to Friends, First Meetings, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: Before the canon Bodhi Rook, cargo pilot, meets Cassian Andor, Rebellion spy, in a bar.





	Loyalties Lie

Bodhi is knee deep in credits when the new player sits down. He’s tempted to cash out, but the look of this man intrigues him. So he stays for another round. Sabacc is half reading the opponent, half chance, and Bodhi is good at the former. This guy is frustrated, and his eyes flit over to Bodhi too often. Bodhi freezes his hand, and the guy is officially out of credits judging by his huff and sitting back looking shocked. Whoever this is, he’d thought he’d win. Well. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Bodhi offers. He’s not supposed to even be away from the cargo, but here he is, and the guy looks like he could use one.

He nods, and orders a Corellian brandy.

“Make it two,” Bodhi says, and the bartender slides over two barely full glasses. Bodhi knows better than to argue with the amount, and raises his glass to his new companion. 

“I haven’t lost that badly in a long time,” he says, and Bodhi squints. Something seems off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bodhi says. He holds out a hand. “Rook.”

“Andor.” He clasps Bodhi’s hand. His eyes skim over the insignia on Bodhi’s shoulder, and looks at him, heavy lidded. He licks his lips and looks up at Bodhi through thick lashes.

Bodhi draws his hand back, a thousand alarm signals going off in his mind. There’s no way, no way this guy is hitting on him. It’s too smooth, and Bodhi knows he needs to get back to the ship right now. The cargo is weapons, but that’s a cover for what Bodhi has on him, and for whatever reason, Andor knows.

Bodhi slams the rest of the brandy back and wracks his mind as to how to get Andor out of his hair.

Andor leans in further, and Bodhi stays still. If Andor is after Bodhi’s intel, he’s not going to go away. But the idea of going through with the game feels awful if this guy is trying to seduce Bodhi of all people. Andor can act as poorly as he wants, but Bodhi won’t buy into it, not if Andor isn’t completely willing.

So Bodhi needs to bore him. Not that interesting, I don’t have what you want, Bodhi wants to say. There’s probably a group of rebels scrounging around his ship right now. 

Bodhi clears his throat. “My place?” he asks. Just like a game, he thinks. Play it like a game.

A slow smile draws across Andor’s face. “I’d like that,” he says. 

Right. Bodhi finishes his drink and watches as Andor swallows down the cheap brandy. Bodhi slides some credits over and gets up from his seat, not looking to see if Andor is following. 

The noise of the city grows as they exit the bar, and then hums when they get to the hangar. He lets Andor hang back and probably inform the Rebels that they’re heading towards the ship. He knows that he shouldn’t expose his back to Andor. After all, Bodhi is a pawn. The only thing that Bodhi has going for him is that he knows where the intel is, a chip hiding underneath his skin. The plans to what, he doesn’t know, and Bodhi gets to deliver them to Galen. 

He’s just a cargo pilot. There’s not much to him aside from his haul. But the Rebels somehow know that Bodhi knows something. Thinking about it too much gives him a sharp pain. 

Bodhi realizes there’s not a lot ways out of this alive.

He’s not sure what kind of person Andor is; five minutes playing a card game isn’t a good way to get to know someone. 

Bodhi can hear the sound of feet scurrying when they reach the ship. 

“Home sweet home,” he says, punching in the code for the gangplank to descend. Andor doesn’t say anything. Bodhi feels like he’s a live wire, his back feels like it’s lit up in flames.

Which is why when he hears the click of a blaster unclasping from a holster Bodhi draws his own as fast as lightening and whips around, the barrel of Andor’s blaster aiming right between his eyes.

“What gave me away?” Andor asks, not moving. 

“The once over you gave me in the bar,” Bodhi says, eyes switching between Andor’s eyes and his trigger finger. “Like you’d ever give me the time of day.”

Andor’s brows draw in, and he tilts his head.

“What?” Bodhi asks.

Andor shrugs, but still looks confused when he says, “Where is it.”

“Search me,” Bodhi says. “You’re the one with the bad sabacc face.”

Andor straightens his arm, his lips tightened into a scowl. “Damn it I don’t have time to search your fucking ship, Rook, just tell me where it is!”

“Forget it!” Bodhi says. “I tell you, you kill me.”

“That’s the idea,” Andor says. 

Bodhi thinks they’re probably going to stay in a stalemate forever, when there’s a commotion behind Andor. 

The Rebels have probably overheard everything since Bodhi didn’t shut the entry ramp. Andor twitches towards where the noise resonates in the hangar, and Bodhi takes the opportunity to switch his blaster to stun and shoot Andor in the face. Bodhi slams the entry ramp up, and rushes over to the ships controls to fly out of this city, off this planet if he can help it. 

He’s out of the atmo when he remembers that Andor is still sliding around on the ship’s floors, and Bodhi runs out to drag and cuff him to a chair and take his blaster.

There’s also a knife in his boot, and another blaster strapped on Andor’s back. 

Bodhi figures there’s more, but he’s not about to strip the guy naked for a weapons search. He should, but Andor showed hesitation in shooting him, so he needs the chip in Bodhi’s hand. He needs whatever is on there more than he needs Bodhi dead.

Andor wakes up after Bodhi jumps into hyper space. He groans, and rubs his face. “I always forget how much that hurts,” he says. Then, “Where’re my blasters?”

“On the ship,” Bodhi says. “Maybe I’ll give them to you once you tell me why you want this intel so badly.” Bodhi turns around in his captain’s chair and looks at Andor. Andor, who has bags under his eyes and a scowl on his face unlike Bodhi’s ever seen.

“I’ll let you know when my squadron comes and kicks your ass,” Andor says.

Bodhi reaches underneath his seat and sees Andor freeze up. Bodhi slows his movements down, although why, he couldn’t say, and pulls out the first aid kit. He tosses it onto Andor’s lap who shoots him the most confused face.

“I’d make a bet on your squadron being a figment of your imagination,” Bodhi says after a minute.

Andor is already pulling out a bacta pack and a pain pill, and he raises an eyebrow at this statement. “Oh?”

“Yeah, you seem like a lone gun.”

Andor snorts. “Not that alone,” he mutters.

“What do I know,” Bodhi says. 

“Where are we headed?”

Bodhi doesn’t say anything for a minute. He watches as Andor slathers bacta on his face, giving it a weird sheen and blueish tint. “Haven’t decided,” he admits, which startles Andor.

“We’re in hyperspace,” he says. “We’re headed somewhere.”

“Just somewhere until I decide what to do with you.”

Andor’s shrewd eyes follow Bodhi’s movements. “Look, I don’t want to put ideas in your head, but you could just kill me.”

“I don’t like killing people,” Bodhi admits.

“You work for the Empire,” Andor drawls, unimpressed.

“Didn’t say I liked that either.” 

“So defect,” Andor shrugs. “Just give me the intel. I’ll let you know where the Rebel base is.” Andor’s eyes slide to the left.

Bodhi rolls his eyes. “You weren’t acting; you really are terrible at bluffing.”

“You were supposed to bet the intel,” Cassian growls.

Bodhi almost laughs. He bites his lip instead. “Look, I don’t want to turn you over to the Empire either. But I like living. So we’re at an impasse, Andor.” 

Andor sighs. “You don’t know everything,” he says.

“You’re right. Maybe if you told me more, I’d let you go.”

“Information for my life?”

Bodhi shrugs again. “It’s a fair trade.” He turns back to the controls. 

There’s a moment of silence before Andor sighs. “How much you want to know?”

“Figured out where the guns are?” Bodhi asks. Otherwise there’s no way Andor would hand anything over. A moment, then, “Your silence is telling.”

“Maybe I’m not the only one bad at hiding.”

“And yet, you still don’t know where the intel is.”

Andor blows out a sigh. “What do you propose we do? We can’t just sit in space for the rest of time.” 

Bodhi thinks about this for a moment. “I’m going to drop you off,” he decides. “Your choice where.”

Andor leans in. “I’m not going anywhere without the intel.”

Bodhi slams out of hyperspace, and has what is essentially a stare off with Andor. “Fine,” Bodhi says, and walks out of the cockpit, not wanting to spend another minute with this guy. Bodhi’s met his share of stubborn die hards, and Andor hands down beats them all.

Bodhi is a low level pilot. Not even enough to note. Galen noticed him, and asked him to carry this for him, and Bodhi does it. He doesn’t even hesitate to follow through. So now Bodhi has a chip in his hand with something so damn important that Rebel spies are after it, and he doesn’t even know what it is. He’s tempted, not for the first time, to slice open his hand and read the chip embedded there. 

Bodhi is about to offer his not-really-a-prisoner some tea, when he feels the ship shift, like a — “Tractor beam,” Bodhi says, eyes wide. He runs back to the cockpit where Andor has unlocked the cuffs from the chair and got a hold of the communications board. 

“What are you doing?” Bodhi yells, but Andor doesn’t answer, and Bodhi elbows him aside to get to the controls, which is when Andor turns on him with the blaster again. 

“I’m getting off this ship, and you’re coming with me,” he says. 

The ship shudders to a stop, and outside Bodhi sees the window bay doors of a carrier ship closing. There’s a clanking of the entry ramp being forced open from the outside, and a flat voice calls out, “Cassian, did you find it?”

“No, but I’ve got someone who knows where it is,” Andor replies, not taking his eyes off of Bodhi.

Bodhi slumps into the captain’s chair. Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

 

Bodhi is examining his room come cell when Cassian rolls in.

“We’re not going to torture you,” Andor grumbles out. “But we need to know what you know, and there’s a time limit.”

Bodhi shrugs. “My loyalties aren’t to the Rebellion or the Empire. Good luck.” He sits on the bed. 

“I think torture would be very effective,” the droid from earlier says outside in the corridor. 

“We have your vote, Kay,” Cassian says over his shoulder. He turns back to Bodhi, and frowns. “Where do your loyalties lie, then?”

Bodhi shrugs, but he can feel his traitorous body heat up.

“A lover,” Cassian breathes.

Bodhi doesn’t correct him, just keeps his head down.

“Will they come for you?” Andor asks, which seems like the most intimate thing he could’ve asked. His brown eyes try to catch Bodhi’s, a genuine question. 

Bodhi shakes his head. “I’m no one,” he says.

Cassian, who Bodhi thinks is perpetually frowning, scowls. “Bodhi Rook, cargo pilot.” 

Bodhi’s head snaps up, but Andor continues. “Jedhan; got in trouble as a youth for illegal gambling and joyriding on an airspeeder. You entered the Academy for two years, but failed the test for starfighter. Two years later you earned the title Ensign, and now shuttle documents and artifacts for the Galactic Empire.”

Bodhi spreads his hands and smiles weakly. “See?”

Cassian leans forward. “You were special enough to be given information that the Rebellion hinges on.” 

Bodhi frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but that’s not it.” Galen wouldn’t think to use him, not like that, but he trusted Bodhi enough to travel to Vallt and rummage around in his old dusty house, find the box Galen told him about, and using the needle given to him, insert the chip no bigger than a grain of rice into the flesh of the back of his hand; the apex of his index and thumb.

Bodhi holds something, but he doubts the Rebellion hinges on it.

“You’re more important than you think,” Cassian says, voice soft. “You could be a footnote in the Empire’s book, or be your own volume with the Rebellion.”

“I’m not doing this for fame,” Bodhi grits out. He drops his head in his hands, suddenly tired.

There’s a long suffering sigh from Cassian. “No, you’re doing it for love,” he spits out. “For someone who won’t even come for you.”

“What would you know,” Bodhi says flatly.

“Not much,” Kay says from outside the door. Bodhi startles; he’d forgotten that the droid was there. He looks up to see Cassian’s brown skin flushed red from either embarrassment or anger. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Cassian growls out.

“No.”

Cassian breathes heavy through his nose and closes his eyes tight. 

Bodhi can’t help but smile. “I like your droid.”

“You can have him,” Cassian grumbles.

“I am my own droid,” Kay responds. He bends down to look into the doorway. “But I would not mind Cassian finding other companionship. He-”

“That’s enough, Kay,” Cassian practically shouts.

“I take it Kay is your squadron.”

Cassian rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. He’s still red. Bodhi finds it…charming.

“How much time?” Bodhi hears himself asking.

Cassian looks at, stunned. “I can give you until the morning, then they bring in the big guns.”

“I hope you mean figuratively.”

Cassian smiles slowly. “Think about it,” he says. He gets up, and walks the short distance to the door. He pause at the frame, and turns. “Whoever isn’t coming for you,” he says after a moment, “they’re fools.”

Bodhi looks up questioningly, but Cassian is already apologizing to Kay and the door hisses shut.

 

Bodhi stays up all night. There’s not enough in the room to devise a weapon, the best he could do is throw the sheet over whoever walks in and run past them. 

He spends a lot of time rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand, and thinks about Galen, who thought he was important enough to retrieve something this important.

He thinks about Cassian who thinks that Bodhi is important. 

Galen would want the intel back, but he trusted Bodhi with it. Enough to let Bodhi decide what to do in this very situation. Galen.

Bodhi looks at his hand. 

When the morning comes, so does Cassian. 

Bodhi holds up his left hand and points to it. “Here,” he says. “It’s in my hand, what you’re looking for,” he continues at Cassian’s blank stare.

The following smile is unexpectedly beautiful.


End file.
